Night Of The Wolves Part 22

"I must say, gentlemen, the state of your notes on this project has been less than satisfactory for quite some time."

"Doctor Yopal, I apologize," Mora said, his words tumbling out a little too fast.

"Yes," Daul spoke over him. "We have done our best to master Carda.s.sian syntax, but I fear that sometimes we focus too much on the work and too little on the vocabulary."

Yopal made an amused sound. "Men..." she began, the start of a familiar refrain. "You simply aren't capable of the same kind of attention to detail as women. I suppose you cannot realistically be faulted-you were born with the natural inclination toward immediate results, with less regard for the process of getting there. Sometimes, gentlemen, the journey is as important as the destination-often even more so. I find myself reminding you of this truth far more often than I would a female scientist."

Mora thought she might as well have been describing the difference between Bajoran and Carda.s.sian, but he only nodded. "Of course, Doctor Yopal," he said with well-rehea.r.s.ed sincerity. "Again, my deepest apologies. It won't happen again."

She moved on now, wasting no words. "Doctor Daul, I have news for you. You will no longer be working on this a.s.signment."

There was a terrible moment directly after she spoke when Mora felt certain that he was about to see his friend for the very last time, and he immediately regretted all the moments of unkindness the two had shared. He tried to shoot his friend a look of appropriate apology, but Yopal was still talking.

"Because you have a background in artificial intelligence programming, Doctor Daul, I will be a.s.signing you to begin work on an upgrade to a defective system that currently is in place at a nearby mining facility."

"A mining facility?" Daul replied. "You mean-at a work camp?"

Mora flinched inside, but Yopal was unmoved, as always, her smile intact. "Yes, Doctor Daul, at Gallitep."

Mora felt a s.h.i.+ver run through him at the mention of the facility. Every Bajoran knew about Gallitep. They knew it was a miserable, inescapable place, a place to be avoided at any cost.

Yopal went on. "The program is badly outdated, and...there was an incident, recently, that has warranted immediate attention."

"Certainly," Daul answered, his tone barely concealing the misery he must have been feeling.

Yopal nodded, tapped her chalky fingers against her upper arms. "Unfortunately, we no longer have many scientists on staff with this type of engineering in their repertoires. You'll be working mostly alone. As for you, Mora..." She turned, and hesitated.

An anvil of fear settled in on Mora's chest, his thoughts racing toward his deepest dread. He was about to disappear, like all the other Bajoran scientists who had once worked here, those whose expertise had become irrelevant in the sphere of what Carda.s.sians considered to be useful research. He swallowed down a ma.s.sive lump before he registered that Yopal had resumed speaking.

"...an unknown sample of organic material, brought in several years ago, by a friend of mine in the military after it was discovered adrift in the Denorios Belt. It doesn't have any particular priority, but I just ran into her at a conference and I was quite embarra.s.sed to have to confess that I'd not even taken a look at it yet. Just see what you can find out about it, and give me a report as soon as you're ready."

"Y-yes, Doctor Yopal."

She nodded to him, the half smile twitching a little before she took her leave of them.

"Thank you," he called after her. It seemed somewhat inappropriate to thank her, but he never missed an opportunity. Without Yopal's continued goodwill, he would have no job. A single misstep, and he'd likely have no life at all.

He watched Daul as he concluded his report on their current research, tidying his house for the latest project-one that Mora knew amounted to collaboration with the Carda.s.sians. But if it was collaboration that kept them alive, Mora was only too willing to comply, sick as it may have made him, and it was abundantly apparent that Daul felt very much the same way. What choice did they have?

Six months after the prefect had received the news about the outcome of his indiscretion with Tora Naprem, Ba.s.so Tromac was feeling hot with resentment. It was not a new sensation for him, nor was it one he liked much. He'd been Dukat's Bajoran adjutant on this station for seven years now, and he wondered if there would ever be a time that he would be treated with respect. He doubted it. Dukat was thoroughly unpleasant even to Kubus Oak at times, and Kubus was a man of great prestige.

Ba.s.so was fed up with having to deal with the Kira family. Taban was always surly to him, despite the fact that his visits meant extra food for his dirty-faced children, despite the fact that he brought medicine and goods that Taban was undoubtedly selling on the black market-despite it all, Kira Taban treated him like the enemy, and Ba.s.so was tired of it.

He was even more tired of being sent to deal with Meru, time and time again. Ba.s.so felt that Meru was a spoiled, inconsolable woman, and as she had gotten older, her demands and her tantrums had become increasingly unreasonable. She had far too much freedom on the station, which worried Ba.s.so from time to time. If she'd had the wherewithal, she could have made life very unpleasant for any number of people, especially Dukat. Ba.s.so had tried to delicately broach that topic with the prefect, but always met with dismissal; Dukat obviously thought Ba.s.so was merely put out at having to cater to his mistress, which did at least hold some measure of truth.

It disgusted Ba.s.so that Meru couldn't simply appreciate how lucky she was to have avoided the mines, for that was exactly where he felt she deserved to be. She had been pretty once, to be sure, but she was far from young now, and though Dukat saw to it that she was regularly afforded the latest in cosmetic treatments to keep her countenance youthful, the ever-present grief in her eyes aged her more than mere time ever could. It gave her a haunted presence, something that never failed to unsettle Ba.s.so. He despised being sent to look after her. He would have been happy never to have to speak to her again.

He entered her quarters, where she was seated behind an easel, working on one of her tiresome pieces of iconography. Although Ba.s.so had long ago rejected the meanings behind the D'jarra D'jarras, he still held those from the artist sect in mild contempt, for he had been mistreated by a girl from the Ih'valla D'jarra Ih'valla D'jarra in his youth. in his youth.

"h.e.l.lo, Meru," Ba.s.so said flatly. "I've been sent to see if you'll be needing anything for tonight. The prefect regrets to inform you that he has business on the surface."

The somber woman's mouth pulled down in a frown. "Again?" she said, in her mournful way. "He never used to go to the surface. Now he's down there all the time. I wonder what has changed recently?"

Ba.s.so knew exactly what had changed. He hesitated, considering the implications for only a fleeting moment before he said it. "Well, I suppose you weren't aware that Naprem recently gave birth to a baby girl."

"Naprem?" Meru leaned back very far in her seat as she regarded Ba.s.so with puzzlement. "Who...is Naprem?"

"Why, Meru, I suppose I thought you already knew about Tora Naprem. She is another of Dukat's...comfort-givers. She resides on the surface, however. I suppose Dukat felt it wouldn't be decent to have you both on the station."

Meru looked appropriately shocked, and Ba.s.so felt a cruel twist of amus.e.m.e.nt. Maybe now Meru would think twice about giving the prefect such a difficult time of it, if she understood how disposable she really was. "So, you'll not be needing anything, then?"

Meru shook her head from side to side, slowly, as if in a complete daze. Ba.s.so bowed to her and walked backwards out of the room, letting the doors close behind him. He chuckled unpleasantly as he left the room, but then he considered. He would have to handle the aftermath of this carefully. It would not bode well for him if Dukat were to learn who had leaked the secret to his station mistress. Ba.s.so began immediately to formulate his next move, for he would have to be clever to keep his own skin safe.

It was worth it, though, he thought. The look on her face...Definitely worth it. he thought. The look on her face...Definitely worth it.

Dr. Mora ran through the security protocols for his computer, shutting down the laboratory for the night. It was late, and he was exhausted, but he considered himself lucky that he was even going home tonight-Doctor Daul had been spending many a night in the laboratory since he had been put on the artificial intelligence upgrade.

Mora considered the progress he had made with Yopal's anomalous organic material, which had turned out to be a gelatinous substance with the ability to mimic various forms about the laboratory-even a vaguely humanoid form. The Carda.s.sians were quite impressed with what Mora had heretofore done with it, but beyond party tricks, Mora wasn't sure what further progress there was to be made with the "odo'ital," "odo'ital," as the Carda.s.sians had begun to call it-the word for "unknown sample" in their native language. as the Carda.s.sians had begun to call it-the word for "unknown sample" in their native language.

Mora regarded the amber-hued liquid, the color of copal copal cider, stirring peacefully in a transparent container in the corner of the lab. He considered, with curious pride-as well as some measure of concern-that the liquid had increased in ma.s.s considerably since he began running his tests. He had enjoyed his work with the cider, stirring peacefully in a transparent container in the corner of the lab. He considered, with curious pride-as well as some measure of concern-that the liquid had increased in ma.s.s considerably since he began running his tests. He had enjoyed his work with the odo'ital, odo'ital, and would no doubt miss it once Doctor Yopal rea.s.signed him to something else-for as soon as she discovered that his research was beginning to plateau, she would no doubt find a new project for Mora, possibly even something as unpleasant as Gallitep's mining operation. and would no doubt miss it once Doctor Yopal rea.s.signed him to something else-for as soon as she discovered that his research was beginning to plateau, she would no doubt find a new project for Mora, possibly even something as unpleasant as Gallitep's mining operation.

He sighed heavily as he dimmed the lights and turned to go, but a strangely familiar sound stopped him in his tracks. He turned, looking around the lab, empty of life. "h.e.l.lo?" he said, a little uneasily.

He was met with silence. He checked himself, chuckling a little at his own tired jumpiness, and turned again. And then again, there it was. A sound that was distinctly...well, it was very much like...it was a sigh. sigh.

Ever the scientist, Mora sighed again himself, louder this time. Sure enough, he was met with a response in kind, though he could not be sure where it was coming from. His face p.r.i.c.kled as he considered the eeriness of it, but he had a strange hunch that he knew what was making the sound-for he had suspected for months now that the odo'ital odo'ital was more than just a tank of glop. He'd been possessed of...a feeling, an idea. He believed the goo, unquestionably a new kind of life-form, was more than just some cellular broth. He begun to suspect it might actually be sentient. was more than just a tank of glop. He'd been possessed of...a feeling, an idea. He believed the goo, unquestionably a new kind of life-form, was more than just some cellular broth. He begun to suspect it might actually be sentient.

Once more he sighed, and once more he heard a similar sound coming from the corner of the lab. He was sure of it now, it was coming from the tank, where the golden soup roiled and sloshed in its container, an approximation of Bajor's seas during a brilliant storm. The life-form was trying to communicate with him. Mora knew it. And this was the breakthrough he needed right now, to save his tenuous placement at the inst.i.tute. He ordered the computer to put the lights back up. He would not be going home tonight after all.

Ro Laren's raider hung pa.s.sively in s.p.a.ce as she waited for a signal from Sadakita Ra.s.s, the pilot who was flying the scouts.h.i.+p. The Bram cell always stuck to the same formation when they left the Bajoran atmosphere, dodging the grids by staggering their signals in a particular fas.h.i.+on that confused the Carda.s.sian patrol vessels. Laren tapped her sensor panel impatiently with her fingers before she got the chirp she was waiting for. She put on a burst of speed and quickly changed her direction.

It was not ten minutes later that she saw what her cell was after-the drifting wreckage of an alien freighter, first spied by Sadakita two days before. She had reported it back to Bram, who decided it was worth a second look. Laren had no means of confirming it, but Sadakita believed the vessel had belonged to the Ferengi, the alien merchants who sometimes dared venture into other star systems, even B'hava'el's, if it meant a big enough profit.

Laren could already see that the freighter had sustained extensive damage to its port side. Probably the inhabitants had bailed out of it, but she was surprised the Carda.s.sians hadn't taken the s.h.i.+p yet. Maybe they had no use for it. Maybe they'd already stripped it. There was only one way to be sure.

Procedure was to wait for Sadakita to do another patrol sweep before they approached the s.h.i.+p, but Laren was tired of waiting. Though she had never docked on another s.h.i.+p before, she had a vague idea of how it was done, and she maneuvered her shuttle to the vessel's open bay, taking her stealthy little craft into the derelict's dark, gaping underbelly.

"Laren," came a transmission; it was Bram, calling from his own raider. came a transmission; it was Bram, calling from his own raider. "Is that you I see docking? Wait up on that. It could be b.o.o.by-trapped." "Is that you I see docking? Wait up on that. It could be b.o.o.by-trapped."

Laren considered, and decided Bram was being overly cautious. She didn't want to wait for him-he probably only wanted to be the first on the s.h.i.+p, anyway. She went ahead and docked, her tiny craft thumping crazily inside the bay of the hulking scow. It came to a rest inside a chamber flooded with blackness, and she put on her night visor. "My sensors say breathable atmosphere, and gravity," she reported back. "There must still be some kind of auxiliary power system intact, because the drop ramp came up behind me, so-"

"Laren, do not-I repeat-do not exit your vessel! Stay inside it until I can get there. Sadakita's coming around, and I have to cover her before I can get to you." exit your vessel! Stay inside it until I can get there. Sadakita's coming around, and I have to cover her before I can get to you."

Again, Laren scoffed at Bram's typical stodginess. He was always telling her what to do, and his advice was often wrong, anyway. She pushed back the glacis plate of her s.h.i.+p and took a deep breath. Her lungs did not collapse; she did not immediately begin choking on poison gases. Bram was afraid to take risks.

She hopped out of the raider, the night visor providing only a scant glow. She produced a palmlight and began to wave it about the bay. She could see nothing that interested her, only the most alien construction techniques she had ever seen.

Laren found an airlock and worked its thick double portals to gain access to the rest of the s.h.i.+p. Pa.s.sing into the adjoining corridor, she spotted a bizarrely configured control console next to the airlock. It powered up when she touched it, and though it was mostly indecipherable to her, she managed to find the proper key that reopened the cargo bay for Bram. With that accomplished, she continued down the corridor; Bram was only going to scold her, and she wasn't in any hurry to listen to it.

She aimed her palmlight at a computer terminal she saw in one of the open rooms, and wondered if she might be able to hack into such an alien system. The challenge interested her, and she entered the room.

"What the kosst kosst?" said a man's voice from somewhere back the way she had come. Laren stopped, confused. The accent, the timbre of the voice-it did not belong to Bram. Someone else was here. Someone Bajoran, apparently, for the curse was not one that a Carda.s.sian would ever use. Laren considered her options. Should she go back to the bay and investigate? Did this person mean to harm her? She drew her phaser, more excited than afraid.

"Who are you?" she shouted.

"Who am I?" the voice answered. "Who are you you? This heap is mine-we claimed it over a week ago."

A man emerged in the corridor then, a gray-haired Bajoran that Laren didn't recognize.

She lifted her phaser. "Don't make me ask again," she said coolly.

He slitted his eyes at her, his heavily lined face crinkling with the expression. He looked worried for an instant, but then smiled. "My name is Darrah Mace," he told her. "I've come here from Valo II. Now, how about you tell me who you are?"

"Valo II?" Laren repeated, shaking her head. "My cell found this s.h.i.+p two days ago," she told him, her phaser still trained on the stranger. "I was here first."

The man laughed. "Just how old are you? Twelve? You still haven't told me your name, by the way."

There was a low vibration beneath their feet, the sort Laren might expect from the closing of the cargo doors. Bram must have docked.

"I'm Ro," she said firmly. "And that will be Bram, the leader of my cell. It's two against one now, so you'd better shove off. This s.h.i.+p is ours." Laren stood her ground, her phaser still pointed directly at Mace's head.

"And just what do you propose to do with that?" The man smirked, folding his arms in a self-satisfied expression that infuriated her.

"Didn't you hear me? I said shove off. off." She indicated her phaser. "This thing's stun setting is broken, but the rest of it works just fine." Laren could hear Bram coming through the airlock. "Bram!" she shouted. "Draw your weapon! We've got company in here, and he's trying to steal our s.h.i.+p!"

Bram appeared behind Darrah Mace, hand phaser raised. The stranger turned a little, and finally seemed to accept the seriousness of the situation; he raised his hands above his shoulders.

Twelve! She'd been fourteen for better than two months. She'd been fourteen for better than two months.

"Who are you?" Bram demanded.

"Call me Mace," he said, his tone a bit more hesitant. "This s.h.i.+p is mine, and I'm going to take it. I've already been here three times, set up a signal scrambler so the Carda.s.sians wouldn't find her. Why do you think the patrol s.h.i.+ps haven't hauled her in yet?"

"Because the spoonheads don't do salvage," Bram said, but he sounded doubtful.

The other man scowled, though whether it was because of Bram's use of the racial slur or his defiance, Laren wasn't sure. "Look, you two. I'm taking this s.h.i.+p back to Valo II. I've already done some repairs on her-she's got air and AG, doesn't she? You think that's just luck? I'm willing to guess that neither one of you has ever set foot on a vessel like this before, let alone flown one."

Bram watched the man, his gaze scrutinizing. "We'll see about that," he muttered, and gestured Mace toward the bridge. Laren led the way with her palm beacon, looking back to Bram for an indication that she was going the right way. He nodded once, and made a point of loudly telling her that the "rest" of the cell members were standing by for his signal, still on their raiders outside. Laren nodded, pleased that Bram hadn't given their numbers away.

They came upon the cramped bridge. Whoever designed this s.h.i.+p could not have been much taller than Laren, for both Bram and Mace had to duck through the doorways, which were thankfully jammed open. Ro managed to squeeze to the front, interested in spite of herself.

"Let's see you get her online," Bram said gruffly.

Mace emitted a short sigh, clearly exasperated, and gestured for Laren to highlight a particular panel with her palm beacon. The wide circle of light fell on his hands, and he threw back a couple of switches, dancing his fingers over the keypad. There was a flicker of light, and then a ragged thrumming noise. The s.h.i.+p's power was back online, or at least, partially so-the lights behind Laren continued to flicker hypnotically, and the sound of the power core seemed an uneven chugging, like the throttle noise of a raider that was pushed into too low a gear for its speed.

"You can't possibly get this thing going...can you?" Bram seemed a bit awestruck.

"Of course I can," Mace said. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. If you'd like to come along to Valo II, you can stay aboard, but otherwise, you might want to get into your raiders and get off my s.h.i.+p, because we're going to have to go to warp."

Bram kept the phaser pointed at Mace, apparently trying to decide what to do. Laren knew that Bram was not about to kill another Bajoran, and neither was she. There were collaborators, of course, but this man clearly did not fall into that category. Still, Bram and Laren had an advantage with the phasers, and they weren't quite sure what to do with it. Order him to take it back to Bajor? Where would they dock such a thing, how would it behave in Bajor's atmosphere? She had no idea, and she knew Bram didn't, either. But warp s.h.i.+ps were in notoriously short supply, and too badly needed to walk away from one-even a derelict.

"Oh, for fire's sake," Mace swore. "I knew this would happen."

"What?" Laren asked fearfully, for Mace seemed genuinely afraid.

"Look at this," he said, pointing to the alien s.h.i.+p's sensor screen. "That's a Carda.s.sian patrol. The scrambler can't mask the energy emissions of an active warp reactor. It's time to go, now."

"Wait," Bram said, but then shook his head. "All right," he agreed. He finally lowered his phaser, probably realizing how ridiculous it was to be squabbling with another Bajoran when the real enemy loomed within striking distance. He put a call in to Sadakita, ordering the pilot to return to Bajor.

Mace didn't waste any time. He entered commands into the s.h.i.+p's internal computer system with startling efficiency, and the s.h.i.+p was trembling from its warp engines in almost no time at all. Laren expected to feel a discernible whoosh, whoosh, something to indicate that she was traveling at warp, but there was nothing except the vibrations in the soles of her feet. something to indicate that she was traveling at warp, but there was nothing except the vibrations in the soles of her feet.

"Will they catch us?" Laren wanted to know. She was not often afraid, not since she was a child, but the thought of being captured alive was something that particularly frightened her. She was not usually concerned about it, so long as she was driving her own s.h.i.+p, for she had the utmost confidence in her abilities to dodge even the fastest Carda.s.sian vessels at sublight. But this Mace fellow-well, she hoped that if the Carda.s.sians came after them, they would just blow them up. Being taken prisoner was a possibility she could not even bring herself to consider.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Mace a.s.sured her. "It's possible they haven't even spotted us yet. If they have, they won't necessarily take an interest if we're headed out of the system. It's no crime for a Ferengi vessel to be in Carda.s.sian-controlled s.p.a.ce, if they have legitimate business. If worse comes to worst, we talk to them-pretend to be a damaged Ferengi s.h.i.+p on our way home."

Laren nodded, but her throat still felt tight.

Mace smiled at her. "Cheer up," he said. "I won't let anything happen to us."

Laren nodded again, thinking that maybe Mace wasn't such a bad person after all.

"You know, Ro," he added, "I think you're going to like Valo II."

15.

Kubus Oak was in mid-sentence when the doors to Dukat's office abruptly slid open. "...which certainly makes the best economic sense. As always, your wisdom is-" Kubus stopped short, turning to see the highlighted silhouette of Kira Meru, flanked by a frantic Ba.s.so Tromac.

"I tried to stop her, Gul Dukat," Ba.s.so said. "But she wouldn't-"

"Thank you, Ba.s.so, that will be all. Kubus, we will continue this conversation at another time."

Kubus rose, barely acknowledging Meru as he swept from the room. Dukat gestured to his mistress. "Sit down, please."

She remained standing for a moment before finally sinking down into the seat that faced him. Now that she was here, she was not quite sure how to begin. She looked around, considering that she had never been inside his office before. So this was where he spent most of his time-or had, anyway, before meeting his new mistress...what was her name? Meru couldn't remember, but it wasn't important. She decided to get straight to the point.

"Skrain...you...you...have been spending a great deal of time away from the station of late, and I thought...perhaps...you had no more use for me." She took a breath, her gaze trained on the place where his heavy desk met the floor.

Dukat appeared shocked. "Meru! I can't imagine what could possibly give you such an idea. I love you, and you ought to know that by now. It isn't as though I think of you as a mere object, to be used and then discarded."

He went on, but Meru was not listening. She wanted desperately to convey to him that if he meant to be done with her, it would not hurt her feelings in the least, but she wanted to do it delicately, for she didn't want to give him the impression that she was eager to leave him. But in truth, she was was eager. Since she had learned of his new mistress from Ba.s.so, she had finally begun to visit those forbidden thoughts that she had mostly learned to suppress many years ago-mostly. Sometimes she forgot herself, especially after a dream; dreams were a difficult matter, for she could not control them. Often, when she began to wake, she would feel as though she were desperately clawing her way back to her slumber, to go back to Taban and the children, even if it was not real. eager. Since she had learned of his new mistress from Ba.s.so, she had finally begun to visit those forbidden thoughts that she had mostly learned to suppress many years ago-mostly. Sometimes she forgot herself, especially after a dream; dreams were a difficult matter, for she could not control them. Often, when she began to wake, she would feel as though she were desperately clawing her way back to her slumber, to go back to Taban and the children, even if it was not real.

But perhaps now she had a chance to do it in earnest. Much time had pa.s.sed, and she wondered if her children would even recognize her, or she, them. Ba.s.so had stopped bringing isolinear recordings from the surface a very long time ago, and Meru's heart ached even to try and imagine what her children looked like now. Nerys, with her huge, expressive eyes and her bright, coppery hair-she would be ten years old now. Reon and Pohl, little men, not the babies she had left behind. And Taban...perhaps Taban had even remarried. The idea of it filled her with a nearly unendurable sensation of sorrow, worse even than the idea that he might be dead. It was selfish of her, hypocritical-but the thought of him having found love with another woman was nearly too much to bear.